A long way back home
by Chapin CSI
Summary: Spoiler: Iron Man. Tony Stark's recovering from a drug overdose. He's a mess and comfortable with the fact, until Pepper gets in trouble.
1. Malibu 2004

A long way back home

Part one

Malibu 2004

This story begins a few years before the first Iron Man movie.

Tony Stark is trying to put his life back together.

* * *

_"Good morning, Mr. Stark." _

Tony woke up with a start. For a few seconds he didn't know exactly where he was. Was it the clinic? The hospital? Or was he at Sam's house, or one of those crummy motels he'd been ending up at lately...?

Then the uncertainty passed, and he felt something close to relief, (he wasn't at the clinic or the hospital), but dismay too, because he definitely wasn't at his dealer's house, either. He remembered, now; Sam was in jail, doing six to twelve months –which wasn't a bad deal, considering the charges. Stark Industries lawyers had done a great job there.

As to where he really was, well, who else but JARVIS would greet him as deferentially?

And yet, Tony didn't immediately open his eyes. Sure, it sounded like JARVIS, but he'd heard JARVIS' voice before, (and Pepper's, too), only to find he was in a hospital room, alone. No, not alone; there was always someone in there -cops, nurses or doctors; all asking questions, and all treating him like shit because, rich or not, he was nothing but a junkie...

_"Good morning, Mr. Stark." _

Tony opened his eyes this time. He recognized the ceiling –he was home. He was in his basement, to be more exact, which could only mean one thing: He'd failed to make it upstairs. Again.

Knowing JARVIS was waiting for a response, he managed a hoarse, "Good morning."

_"It's seven O'clock,"_ JARVIS announced as he allowed sunlight to pour into the room. "_Weather conditions for the day are -"_

Tony listened only vaguely to JARVIS' chatter. It was a perfect day for surfing and sailing, but he didn't intent to do any of those things. He rarely left the house now.

_"You have been clean and sober for thirty-five days now, sir."_

"Make another notch on the wall, then." Tony raised a shaky hand and rubbed his forehead. It hurt like hell. Like a hammer pounding on his skull from the inside out, was how he'd described it to the hospital shrink. But the woman had merely smiled at him. Physical pain was of no concern to her; 'feelings' were. 'I don't have any,' he'd said flatly.

The shrink had merely smiled that condescending smile that drove him nuts.

'Oh, wait,' he'd said, then. 'Hate. That's a feeling, right?' and he'd pointedly looked at her. And whatever she saw on his face was enough to erase that smug smile off hers.

That memory still made _him_ smile.

_"This is the third night on a row you have spent on the couch, sir."_

"I'm aware of that," Tony said, shifting a little. His back hurt, too.

_"Sir, sleeping in your bed was one of the conditions you agreed to when you were released from the Andersen Clinic."_

"It's a stupid condition."

_"It's part of a healthy routine, along with the chores you are supposed to be doing. The mere act of making your bed would symbolize your willingness to take full responsibility for -" _

"Yak, yak, yak," Tony mumbled sullenly. "I should have never let you memorize that damn booklet." He tried turning on his side, but his aches only worsened. "Oh, shit," he sighed. "I wanna kill myself."

"_You described a similar sentiment yesterday, sir. And the day before yesterday, too."_

"I know."

_"May I inquire whether you are seriously considering putting an end to your life?"_

Tony frowned.

"Why?"

_"I wish to be prepared, should you require my assistance."_

Tony considered this. "That's a little ambiguous," he said. "I actually don't know whether you'd try to stop me or help me pull the trigger."

_"My goal is to help you in any way I can, sir."_

"Gee, thanks." Tony stared at the ceiling for a moment. "What time is it?"

_"It's seven-ten, sir."_

Tony sat up with some difficulty. He mentally checked on the things he had to do: take a shower, put on some clean clothes, shave -no, he couldn't shave yet; he didn't trust his shaky hands yet.

But first and foremost, he needed to _wake up_. He rubbed his eyes.

"I'm gonna need lots of coffee."

_"It is ready, sir." _

Tony looked up. The coffee maker was only a few feet away but he didn't have the energy to walk that far. He started to call out, "Hey, Dummy -" then stopped. Guilt crept in, though only for a second.

_"You still haven't reassembled him, sir."_

"I know," Tony said with a glare.

With no one there to help, he finally rose and stumbled to the kitchen.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, and even this simple task proved to be more than he could handle; he ended up spilling quite a lot on the counter and on himself. He didn't care. He still had time to make himself presentable. Put on a happy face for Pepper, so to speak.

"How long do I have before Potts gets here?"

_"Miss Potts isn't coming today, sir."_

"Really? Why?"

_"She's indisposed."_

Tony frowned. "Indisposed, how?"

_"She didn't specify, sir. I believe it has something to do with her boyfriend."_

"Oh. The Architect," Tony said with a sneer. Tall guy with an inflated ego who loved to look down on Tony. "Can't understand what Pepper sees in him."

Actually, he knew exactly what she saw in him. He was a handsome son of a bitch. And tall.

_"She might not be seeing him anymore, sir."_

Tony looked up with interest.

"You think so?"

_"She made that very clear when she requested the restraining order, sir."_

Tony started. For a couple of seconds he wondered if he might still be sleeping. "A restraining order? What the hell are you talking about?"

_"Miss Potts placed a call to the police last night."_

Tony looked into his cup. For a mad moment he wondered if he there might be something more than Hawaiian Blue in it. Pepper was the last person who'd get in this kind of trouble. Or any kind of trouble, for that matter.

"JARVIS? How do you know all this?"

_"I encountered her name while doing a routine check on yesterday's police reports sir. Miss Potts placed a call to the police around midnight. Mr. Andersen tried to force his attentions on her."_

Tony froze.

"Did he hurt her?" That son of a bitch better didn't -

_"There were no requests for medical attention, sir. It seems she successfully fended him off until police arrived"_

"Jesus."

_" Shall I play Miss Potts' message?"_

Tony listened as Pepper quietly apologized for not being able to make it. "I'm not feeling well," she said, and she sounded as if she had a cold, which could only mean she'd been crying. But rather than dwelling on her own troubles, she'd sought to reassure _him_. "I asked Human Resources to send you a nurse, Tony; please be nice to her."

"I'm always nice," Tony said mechanically. But he knew it wasn't true; he'd been acting like a son of a bitch lately.

He blinked when he realized her message had ended.

"She didn't mention last night."

_"She probably didn't want to add to your troubles, sir. You are in no condition to help, after all."_

Tony started to protest, then stopped. JARVIS was right, of course. He was in no condition to help anybody.

_"Shall I call Miss Potts?"_

"No. No, that's -" He didn't finish. He had a vague idea of what he should be doing: call her, of course; call her and offer his help –well, not his help; a lawyer's help. Stark Industries had enough of those. But if he called then he'd have to _talk_ to her, and what the hell was he going to say? "She's ok, right?"

_"I can only assume that she is, sir." _

Tony was silent for a moment. "I should do something," he said uncertainly. "Right? Maybe I should –I don't know; call someone -" He started pacing around as he spoke. He couldn't decide what to do. He hadn't made a decision in months, it seemed. Or rather, every decision he'd made had ended in disaster. The only reason he wasn't in jail was because Obadiah Stane had struck a deal with the DA.

He couldn't even work anymore. His workshop was littered with projects he'd left unfinished –projects he'd only started to keep his overseers happy, not out of any personal conviction. He'd fooled everyone -even Pepper. But most of all, he'd fooled himself.

Until today. Today, he saw things clearly for the first time in weeks. He couldn't handle a crisis; he couldn't handle _life._

"It's over," he said.

_"Sir?"_

"Nothing. Just something I've just realized."

_"Shall I call Miss Potts?" _

"What for? It's not like I can do anything for her. You said so yourself." Leave it to JARVIS to be the only one who wouldn't sugarcoat the truth.

_"You are behind schedule, sir. Your shower -"_

Tony wasn't listening anymore. His gaze had fallen on the farthest end of his workshop, where his robots lay in a heap, the first victims of his restlessness.

Relief had been there all along, he realized; he'd just forgotten. No, he hadn't forgotten; he'd simply tricked himself into thinking he could do without it.

He'd tried; he'd let Pepper take the mandatory blood samples and he'd assisted to every therapy session. He'd done his best to convince everyone that he was working again, and that drugs hadn't tainted his creativity, or his ability to deal with setbacks.

He was tired of trying. Exhausted.

Sweet oblivion had been here all along…

Determined, Tony went to his robots and started pulling them apart even further. He'd stashed a couple of bags in there a few days before the law caught up with him. It was the one cache that Obie's people had failed to discover.

"Shit." His hands were shaking so badly he'd cut his finger, but that didn't slow him down. He needed that cocaine now –was it cocaine? He hoped so; he needed the boost –but anything would do, really. "Fuck, fuck, fuck -" He'd stashed the bags in too deep; he could touch them, he just couldn't retrieve them. "Son of a bitch! I'm gonna cut you up -"

_"Sir, the circuits are too delicate; you said so yourself."_

"Fuck what I said."

_"Sir, may I remind you that -"_

"MUTE!"

Tony tried picking the robot, then gave up. Dummy was too heavy and he was out of shape.

"Fuck!" he growled, mentally cursing himself for building the robots so sturdily. "Damn kid," he muttered, for he was only a teen when he built them. Growing desperate, he grabbed a metal bar that was lying about. He lifted it over his head –

And just as he was about to let it fall, he looked down, right into Dummy's eye-like bolts.

* * *

TBC


	2. Malibu 2004 II

A long way back home

Part two

Malibu, 2004

* * *

Tony knocked on the door then stepped back and waited, making sure his face remained eye-level with the peep-hole all along.

Soon, there was movement on the other side, and the door opened a couple of inches, chain link firmly in place.

Pepper peered out, her eyes open wide in disbelief.

"Tony?"

"Hey, Potts," he said amiably.

She swung the door open this time. She looked at him with concern.

"What is it? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

She didn't seem to be listening. She ushered him inside and then closed the door and leant on it, just as if she were afraid that someone might be coming after him, (the cops, perhaps?)

"What happened?" she asked, but '_what did you do now'_ was what she really wanted to know.

He forced a smile.

"Nothing happened. I just thought I'd bring you something. Here," and he awkwardly offered her a take-out container.

She looked at it but didn't take it.

"What is it?"

"It's chicken soup," he said, as if it should be obvious.

She looked down at it, and then at him.

"Please, tell me you didn't drive."

"Why not? It's a great day to drive with the top down."

He'd meant it as a joke, but she actually took it seriously.

"Oh, Tony -"

"Relax;" he said gently. "I didn't drive. I've got a suspended license, remember? Happy brought me. Take a look outside," he added, but she didn't move. "Anyway, I wanted to bring you flowers, but there was like a thousand to choose from, and I-" _and I couldn't decide._ He didn't have to say it out loud; he knew she knew what he meant.

"Anyway, I thought soup would do you good. In case you have a cold. I mean, you sounded like you had one. And who doesn't like chicken soup, right?"

"Tony," she said quietly.

His eyes had been darting here and there as he spoke, but something in her voice made him look at her –really look at her.

It was a bad day to look into people's eyes -and robot's eyes too. But while the reproach he saw in Dummy's bolts had shaken him, what he saw in Pepper's hurt: Wariness.

She didn't trust him.

"Your eyes are red," she said bluntly.

Sure, his eyes were red. He'd cried his eyes out back in his basement, right after he realized he was about to 'kill' Dummy –and with him, every dream and every sane purpose he'd ever harbored. He broke down after that. "I'm sorry," he'd said over and over. "I'm sorry;" and thank God JARVIS was in mute mode, because Tony did not want to explain why he was asking forgiveness from a broken robot.

Not that he was about to tell Pepper any of this. She already thought he was half-crazy.

She also thought he was using drugs again.

"What is it this time?" she asked tiredly.

"Nothing." She didn't believe him but she wanted to -desperately so. He could tell. "Pepper," he said, his gaze never wavering. "I didn't take anything. I swear. I just forgot my sunglasses."

"You mean you voluntarily got out of the house?"

"Yes, I did."

She visibly relaxed.

"Tony, that's great." She looked at the container. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You could ask me in," he said quietly, for they were still standing by the door.

She hesitated.

"Sure," she said at last. She forced a smile. "Come on in." And she led him into a cozy living room.

Tony glanced around. He'd never been there before but he could tell that a struggle had taken place there. There were glass portions missing from a cabinet, for instance, and some pieces of furniture were obviously out of place. He knew Pepper; her orderly mind would have _demanded_ order and symmetry in her surroundings.

She only made concessions when it came to _his_ surroundings.

Tony studied her covertly. She was wearing a bulky sweater, and the bright blue emphasized her pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. She looked otherwise fine, but her movements were tentative, as if she were unsure of her footing.

Or as if she were in pain.

She did her best to play hostess. She led him to the comfiest chair and offered him something to drink.

"I've got coffee and tea…No, wait; you hate tea. Coffee's no good either. But I can get you a -"

"Please, don't bother." He said kindly. "Sit. Have some soup. If you want," he added awkwardly. Ordering her around was the last thing he wanted to do.

She sat and tried a little of the soup. To Tony, it looked like even the simple task of lifting a spoon was painful to her, but that she kept doing it because it gave her something to do. And leaning over the soup gave her an excuse not to look at him. That's what struck him next; that she did not want to look at him –or maybe she didn't want him to look at her. Her hair helped; she was wearing it loose today, and it effectively hid most of her face.

"I figured you had the flu, or something," he said conversationally.

She kept her gaze down.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there today."

"Hey, it's ok. I… I'm sorry I came like this –it's not like I'm keeping tabs on you, or anything. I just thought you might want some company. Or some aspirin," he added, trying for humor. "That nurse you sent me's in the car, by the way. She and Happy must be sharing war stories about the rich and infamous."

She looked up sharply.

"Did she take your blood sample?"

"Yes she did. I passed with flying colors again." He smiled, but he was uncomfortable, and she wasn't doing much better. She obviously didn't want him there.

He would have gladly left just to please her, but there was something he wanted –needed- to do.

"Hey, listen… I've been thinking. Maybe I should get away for a few days. You know, go on vacation."

"A vacation?" she frowned. "Now?"

"It's as good a time as any."

"Tony, the judge was very specific about the conditions of your release; he said -"

"Actually, his phrasing was pretty vague," Tony countered. "He said I ought to be closely monitored in my place of residence. He didn't say which residence –or even which country."

"The doctors were not as vague."

"So? We'll take them along with us. Come on; think about it: We could go somewhere warm. It'll clear your sinuses," he said enticingly, then, almost to himself. "God knows I need my sinuses cleared, too."

She couldn't help smiling. "Tony, we're in California; what can be warmer than that?"

"Italy," he replied. "Greece. Some parts of Afghanistan. Want me to go on?" He turned serious. "I need to get away, Pepper. Ok? I'm sick of California right now."

She hesitated. He obviously had a point there.

"I guess it could be arranged," she said slowly. "You would have to wait a week, or at least until after the Board of Directors' meeting, but-"

"Obie can take care of that. He's better at these things than me, anyway."

She smiled indulgently.

"You can't leave everything in Obadiah's hands, Tony. Those are very greedy hands, you know."

"Yeah, but I've got the brains," he said cockily. "He needs me more than I need him." Before she could raise another objection, he added, "I was thinking of Venice. There's a hotel there -what's it called? Cipriani?"

"Yes."

"We could stay there. We'll eat pasta three times a day and then sweat it all off at the dance floor at night."

She shook her head, her smile turning sad. "I don't think that'll be possible, Tony."

"I know, I know. _I_ can't go near a night club for six months. That's ok. _You_ go to the club; I'll get a masseuse to work off my fat for me. What do you say?" He smiled winningly at her.

She smiled despite herself.

"All right. If you're set to go, then I'll talk to Judge Morris. I'm sure he'll let Happy take over for me while you're gone."

"Take over for you? What kind of talk is that?"

"I can't just take up and leave; I have things to do."

"Like what? If it's paperwork, then get a secretary to do it."

"Not everything's about Stark Industries, Tony," she said good-naturedly; "I have some personal stuff to take care of. But don't worry; I'm sure the judge will approve. I know Happy's perfectly capable of taking the blood samples, and -"

"It's a done deal," Tony said abruptly. "We're going to Venice."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going there." Reluctantly, he added. "I talked to Anne Meyers. She made all the arrangements. Our plane leaves tomorrow."

Her smile faded the moment he mentioned Anne, the head of Human Resources (and Pepper's only rival as top female employee at Stark Industries).

"You talked to _Anne_…?"

"Pepper -"

She rose.

"Let me get this straight," she said, showing some feeling at last. "You went behind my back to Anne?"

Tony rose too. "Calm down -"

"Why would you do that? What, you didn't think I could manage?"

"Hey, take it easy -" he instinctively reached for her but stopped when he saw her flinch. He hesitated, then took her arm. He gently lifted the sleeve of her sweater.

There was a very visible bruise on her wrist.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered.

Pepper quickly pulled her arm away.

"I had an accident."

"Yeah, I bet that's how _he_ called it."

She stared at him for a couple of seconds –she was quickly putting two and two together- and suddenly, she flushed.

"You know."

* * *

TBC


	3. Malibu 2004 III

A long way back home

Malibu 2004

Part three

* * *

"You know. Oh, my God -"

"What did he do to you?" He tried to reach for her again but stopped when he saw her visibly recoil from him. "Pepper, what happened?"

"Oh, for God's sake," she said, "I can't talk to you about this"

"Why?"

"Why?" she asked as if it were the stupidest thing to say. "Because you're my boss! You're the last person I'd want to discuss this with!"

Her anger took him by surprise. She seemed surprised too. Suddenly, she couldn't even face him anymore. She turned away and retreated to the farthest corner of the room.

To his horror, she covered her face with both hands. The last thing he wanted to do was make her cry.

He took a couple of steps in her direction and when she didn't protest, he took another two. He was standing closer to her now, but not so close that she would feel threatened.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he said lamely. "I was just... worried."

She lowered her hands. She wasn't crying.

"Who told you?"

"JARVIS."

"Of course," she said, smiling bitterly.

"Don't be mad at him," Tony said quietly. _Don't be mad at me._ He waited for her to say something, but she wouldn't. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Because -" She'd started in earnest, and then stopped abruptly.

"Yeah?"

She shook her head. "I can't talk about this, Tony. I just can't."

"Sure, you can," he said gently. "Come on," he coaxed. "Talking's good for the soul."

"_You_ don't believe that," she said; "God knows how many times I've tried to talk to you -"

"It's not my soul I'm worried about," he said quietly.

"I know. You made that clear a long time ago."

And what could he say to that?

Tony started fidgeting. It seemed his presence was only making things worse, but he didn't know what else he could do or say. He didn't know how to deal with people's emotions -he'd never cared enough about them.

But he cared enough about Pepper to stick around a little more.

"All right," he said slowly. "If you don't want to talk, then that's ok. We can stand here and stare at the floor or at the walls. But could you put on the radio or something? I can't take the quiet."

She didn't move.

"Fine," he said. He took a deep breath. "I'll talk, then."

He looked down, then he looked at her. He didn't know where to start. He cleared his throat. "Ok. I, uh, know I've been giving you a lot of trouble lately. Actually, I've been acting like a son of a bitch -"

"Oh, Tony," she sighed, "That's not -"

"Hey, you had your turn," he said good-naturedly. He could tell Pepper was thawing, so he took his chance. "Just let me say this. I know I haven't been exactly dependable lately, but… I can try. I can be a friend." He reached for her hand again, and this time he didn't let go.

She shook her head.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, ok. So, I'm undependable _and_ stupid."

"I didn't say that. Please, Tony," she said tiredy; "I'm trying hard NOT to ask you to leave, but -"

"Good; 'cause I'm not leaving. I mean, I'll leave this room if you want me to," he said good-naturedly. "I'll just stay outside and set up camp till you talk to me."

She scoffed.

"You've never set up camp in your life."

"Actually, I have. Dad used to send me to Summer Camp every year; it was his way of keeping an eye on me without actually having to keep an eye on me. Wanna see me start a fire using a couple of sticks?" He smiled, and was gratified to see her smile. A reluctant little smile, but it was better than nothing. "Hey. You're back."

She scoffed again. "Pleasant Pepper Potts is back."

"Hey, as long you keep talking, I'll take any Pepper Potts you give me. Come on," he said gently. "Let's take a seat; let's talk it out."

She closed her eyes.

"I'm just too tired, Tony -"

"Ok. Let me help, then. I'll get you a lawyer. You need a lawyer, right? These days, victims have to take care of themselves." He waited until she nodded reluctantly. "Ok, then. I'll get you one. End of discussion."

She opened her mouth again.

"That's it, Pepper," he said firmly. "I'm calling the shots this time. Come on," he added, tugging at her hand until she moved. He lead her to the couch while he sat on the coffee table, her hand still clasped in his.

Since she was sitting with her head bowed, he bent down until he was able to look her in the eye.

"You ok?"

She nodded.

"Good," he said. "And don't worry; I can sit like this for hours at the time. The Hunchback look is in this year."

She straightened up (just like he knew she would). She was looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and tenderness.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to be ungrateful, but -"

"It's ok."

"- I just hate this."

"You mean... sitting here?"

"No. Yes. I..." she took a deep breath. "I'm ashamed, Tony."

"What?"

"I'm _ashamed_. Ok? I didn't want anyone to know any of this. Least of all -" she let the word trail off.

He didn't know what to say. He knew exactly how she was feeling -of all the people in the world, he was probably the one who understood what she was going through, yet he didn't know how to help.

"It's ok," he said awkwardly.

"No. It's not. I feel so stupid -"

"Oh, Pepper. Look. Shit happens to everyone once in a while. And pride is overrated anyway. I mean, look at me," he added. "You've seen me at my very worst." _Or almost_, he thought, thinking of the shameful way he'd been using his robots. He was never going to tell her about that. "I can tell you this," he said. "Hey," He waited till she look up. "You'll survive this. I swear."

"I'm not used to this."

"What?"

"_This_," she said. "I'm not used to depending on others."

"And I'm not used to doing things for others." He frowned. "Hard to think this working out, huh?"

She smiled despite herself.

She looked down again.

"You were right about him," she said quietly. "You told me you didn't like him."

"I just don't like anybody, Pepper."

"Still. I wish I'd listened." She was silent for a long moment. "He wanted to sleep with me. I didn't. He must have thought I was playing hard to get," she added wearily; "When he saw I wasn't, he got mad, and he started yelling, and -God, the things he said." She closed her eyes.

Tony didn't say anything but inwardly, he was reeling.

"He grabbed me by the hair, then. I was so shocked I didn't do anything. Then he started dragging me to the bedroom, and -" She took a deep breath.

_Oh, God_, Tony thought.

"- and I hit him with that ornate umbrella you got me for Christmas." She opened her eyes and smiled a little.

Pleased, he smiled back.

"_I_ got you an umbrella?" He knew she had simply bought herself something on his behalf. It was an arrangement that worked well. "Did you get the motherfucker?"

"I got his arm. His shoulder, too, I think." She held his gaze but only for a moment. She was not proud of what she'd done.

"Good," Tony said tightly "He deserved it." He studied her. "You're not feeling sorry for him, are you?"

"No. But the fact is, I let him in, Tony." She looked up. "He told the cops that I'd let him in and led him on. And I did. I _knew_ he wanted me; I thought I wanted him too, but -" she couldn't finish.

"You had a right to say no."

"I know. I _know_," she added, as if she needed to hear the words out loud to convince herself.

Tony wanted to know what had made her change her mind about this man. She had seemed smitten enough -

"Is he in jail?" he asked instead.

"He's out on bail," she said wearily. "His lawyer was gloating when he told me, a moment ago."

"That's harassment," Tony said, bristling. "I'll tell Brennan. He'll be handling those guys from now on."

Brennan was Stark Industries' legal ace. Whatever Stark Inc. needed, he made it possible.

She hesitated.

"I don't want this to turn into a personal vendetta, Tony."

"What do _you_ want?"

"Truthfully? I want him rotting in jail for the rest of his life," she said firmly. "Legally, it's another matter. I just don't want to see him, ever again."

"Done," Tony said cryptically.

She looked at him as if for the first time that day.

"What?" He frowned.

She smiled. "You sound like your old self."

He smiled back. He was going to say something, but first he noticed he was still holding her hand. He could easily pull her into his arms right now, he realized. He wanted to. He wanted to show her that not all men used violence. And she would yield -of course, she would. She was feeling vulnerable, and she trusted him. She probably thought he was the safest man in the world right now.

Only, he wasn't. He was a mess.

He rose, and this gave him an excuse to let go of her hand.

"So, what do you say? Are we going to Venice?"

She blinked as if she'd forgotten all about the trip.

"Are you sure this is the right time to go?"

"It's the best time," he replied. "You need a break, and not just from this guy. In fact, if you'd rather go alone, I'll understand."

She smiled. "You know I can't leave you."

"You can. You should. After all the shit I put you through -"

"Oh, Tony, no," she sighed. "Don't say that. Besides, it's my job to take care of you, not the other way around. That's what you pay me for, remember?"

"Of course," Tony said mechanically. Sure, he remembered. But there were times when it felt like Pepper did what she did out of friendship alone.

"In fact," Pepper said, "Some might say I haven't been doing a good job lately."

"Hey, you didn't choose my friends," he said. He met her gaze. They hadn't really talked about any of this –his 'friends', his addiction, his sudden overdose. She had tried –she was right; she had tried so many times- but he couldn't talk to her. He was ashamed. God, he was so ashamed.

"Anyway," he said as casually as he could. "My offer still stands, Peps. Go. Go and have a good time." He paused. "But… If you want company, then I'll tag along. _I _need a break. I need to go away and pretend I'm a level-headed guy who makes wise decisions all the time."

She sighed. "I haven't been wise, either."

"You're the wisest person I know, Potts. You just used up all your wisdom on me."

She looked at him in surprise.

He pretended not to notice.

"Anyway. I promise this'll be better than Mallorca, Pepper; that was mostly about work. This time we'll do something crazy. Abstemiously, of course." He paused, then smiled. "You know I'll just keep at it till I wear you down, right? Come on, Miss Potts. Just say yes."

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

* * *

TBC


	4. Malibu 2004 IV

Part 4

* * *

Tony stood in front of the full-size mirror, buttoning his shirt. He was looking at his hands' reflection, following their movements with growing detachment, almost as if they were someone else's hands.

Someone else's hands, on someone else's shirt… Someone else's mirror... in someone else's room…

He was moving slowly, almost reluctantly, until he stopped moving altogether.

"What now?"

Tony blinked. He'd momentarily forgotten that Obadiah Stane was there too. Tony raised his gaze and saw Obie standing in a corner. Dapper as always, an unlit Cuban in one hand and a small card in the other, the older man had been ostensibly reviewing his notes for tonight's speech, while obviously keeping an eye on his business partner all along.

"Wake up, Tony," Obie said impatiently. Then, with a heavy sigh, "What is it?"

_'Uh, oh,' _Tony thought. He new that tone; '_my patience is running out'_ it said, and it was a tone that Stark Industries' employees had learned to dread. And while it rarely had any effect on Tony, tonight was one of those times when he'd rather not have to deal with it. He was too fucking exhausted. He'd come back from Venice that very day. Frankly, he'd rather be in his basement right now, tinkering with his robots.

Instead, he was getting ready to attend a big bash.

Mechanically, Tony finished buttoning his shirt, and then picked a tie from the rack, only to pause in front of the mirror again.

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

"Then choose another tie," Obie said testily.

"Not the tie," Tony said. "The party. I'm not ready for it."

"Well, you'd better be, Tony. This party's been in the works for six months; it benefits a well-known charity, and -"

"- and it's good for business," Tony finished. "I know, I know -"

"Put yourself together, then." Deliberately, Obie added, "It's not like this is your first party _ever_."

Tony acknowledged the truth behind that comment.

"Maybe that's the problem," he said candidly. "I'm still recovering from the last one." The one that had lasted about six months.

Obadiah didn't comment. He put the cigar and the card on top of a dresser, then walked up to Tony until he was standing next to him, sharing space in front of the mirror. He ignored Tony, and focused on himself instead. He looked impeccable, but not in his own eyes; he carefully straightened up his tie and then picked an imaginary speck of lint from his sleeve.

Tony smiled a little.

"Do you polish your head too, Mr. Stane?" he asked. Those were the exact words he'd said to Obadiah Stane when they'd first met, about thirty years ago. Obie had laughed back then, (though probably only out of politeness; Tony's parents had been there too, after all), but he wasn't amused this time. He merely met Tony's gaze on the mirror.

"Where are your cuff links?" he asked.

Tony glanced in the dresser's direction, but Obadiah didn't turn. Instead, he patted the right pocket of his own tux as if he'd suddenly noticed something in it. With an ostensible frown, he put his hand inside and brought up a tiny jeweler's box. "Well, well," he said. "What do we have here?" He opened the box and looked at its contents.

Tony looked down too. A pair of cuff links lay in the box, gold, with the letters "TS" beautifully etched on top.

"Well?" Obadiah said, "What do you think?"

"Nice," Tony said dutifully.

Stane paused for a couple of seconds, then, "It's a gift from Stark Industries' personnel, Tony."

Tony was speechless. It was one thing to get gifts from a business partner; it was quite another to get gifts from his employees. He felt a pang of guilt as he looked at the cuff links.

"It's their way of saying 'we trust you,'" Obie said. He let those words sink in, then, "You should wear them tonight. Here," he added, just as Tony was reaching for the cuff links. "Let me help you."

Tony let him. He would never admit it out loud, but he kind of liked it when Stane did his fatherly bit –even when he was being grumpy about it.

Obadiah finished fastening the cuff links. He looked up, noticed that Tony hadn't finished tying his tie and set out to fix that too.

"Tony, this is more than a party," he said conversationally, "This is your chance to show the Board that you're back on track."

"I'd rather show them at Stark Industries. I'm going back on Monday, by the way."

"Are you," Stane said noncommittally.

"Yeah, I am," Tony said, piqued by Obie's skepticism. "I have some new ideas." That wasn't exactly true, but he was hoping that being at the plant would serve as inspiration.

He certainly didn't want to stay home all day.

"Well, that's good, Tony," Obadiah said kindly. "You _are_ behind on your designs."

"I know." Tony hesitated, then, "I am ready to make some changes."

"On your designs?"

"In my life."

Obie's smile widened.

"Tony, you can't even manage putting on a tie yet," he said before giving Tony's tie one last tug. "Try tackling the small stuff first, ok?" The benevolent smile belied the harshness of the words.

"I'm serious," Tony said. "I had lots of time to think these past two weeks; I want to -"

"Uh, oh; Tony Stark in an introspective mood. I wish I'd been there to see it."

Tony ignored the sarcasm. "It was good, actually," he said. "It gave me a chance to put things into perspective."

Obadiah eyed him attentively for a moment, then nodded gravely.

"Well. Good for you, Tony." He glanced around, noticed he'd left his Cuban on the dresser, and went to pick it up. "I read your doctor's report, by the way," he said off-handedly. "He was very… thorough. He really kept an eye on you."

Tony flinched at the comment. It looked like his doctor had issued reports to everybody but him. Loss of privacy was something he still had trouble dealing with.

He could hardly start complaining about it, though.

"So. What did he say?"

"He says you're still having trouble sleeping. You have fewer headaches, though." Obadiah walked back to Tony as he spoke. "He is –and I'm quoting- cautiously optimistic about your progress."

"_Cautiously _optimistic?" Tony said with mock indignation. "I took that son of a bitch on a two-week trip to Venice, and 'cautiously optimistic' is all I get?"

Obadiah smiled back, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"That was quite a stunt you played on me, by the way," he said. "You just took off -"

'_Here we go,'_ Tony thought. "I didn't just take off," he said, still in a light mood, "I left you a message. Didn't you get it?" He smiled, but Obadiah wasn't amused.

The affable mask had fallen at last. Stane leant forward, the way he always did whenever he wanted to intimidate Tony.

"That's not the way you're supposed to do things now, Tony," he hissed. "You're on _probation_. The judge might have some liberal ideas of what that term entails but trust me: the Directors aren't as magnanimous. They're wondering if they can really count on you."

"_Count on me_?" Tony repeated, his temper starting to rise, "What, they don't think I work hard enough for the company? Just tell them how many billions I made for _them_ last year!"

"But you skipped their annual meeting. A token appearance -that's all they needed, Tony. Instead, you flew to fucking Venice; you disappeared for two weeks; you didn't even bother to discuss the matter with me -"

"Ok, ok." Tony said, raising a hand. "It was bad timing; I admit it."

"Bad timing," Obie said with a scoff; "Now, that's an understanding -"

"I just needed a rest."

"That's a fucking lie." Obadiah met his gaze. "You just wanted to take Pepper away while Brenner cleaned up her mess."

Tony looked up sharply.

Obadiah smiled. "Surprised? You didn't really think the company's top lawyer would take a case without consulting me first, did you? Brennan told me all about Pepper's boyfriend." He shook his head. "I'm very disappointed, to tell you the truth. That Pepper, of all women, would get involved with a psychopath! And then, taking off to Venice, with no regard for the company -"

"It was _my_ decision," Tony said curtly, shooting a warning look at Obadiah –he could be just as intimidating when he chose to be. They stared at each other for a moment –and who knows how long they would have been at it if Tony hadn't decided that fighting was the last thing he wanted. "Come on, Obie;" he said in a conciliatory manner. "Cut her some slack. I mean, who hasn't been involved with a psycho at one point of another, right?" He paused, saw that his joke had fallen flat. "She just needed a break."

"Oh, please," Obie said, waving a hand in dismissal. "Personal Assistants don't have needs, Tony; they don't get 'breaks' either, unless it's a permanent one. Let her solve her own problems! You've got enough on your plate as it is!" Morosely, he put the Cuban in his mouth, and started patting his pockets.

"Here," Tony said, offering him his own lighter. He watched Obie light his cigar. He didn't speak until Obie was puffing on his cigar, really enjoying it. "She's more than a Personal Assistant to me," he said quietly.

Obadiah slowly raised his gaze.

"And what exactly does that mean?"

Tony didn't immediately reply. He hadn't planned on talking about this yet –not with Obie, anyway. His thoughts on the matter were still in disarray, actually. But maybe this was a good time as any to say what was in his mind. And in his heart.

He walked up to Obadiah.

"I think I'm in love with her."

Obadiah snorted very noisily.

"So, _that'_s what this trip was all about. You just wanted to fuck your PA."

Tony was appalled.

"Jesus, Obie."

Obadiah raised a hand.

"All right, all right; I apologize. You just wanted to _bed_ your Personal Assistant. Is that better?"

"I didn't sleep with her." "Oh? So, her virtue's intact, then," Obadiah muttered to himself.

"Not that it's any of your business," Tony said angrily.

"Actually it is," Obadiah countered irritably. "As long as she works for Stark Industries, whatever you two do is my business. For God's sake, Tony," he said in disgust. "You should know better!"

"She'd be good to me," Tony said. "She's a good woman; she's kind, she's -"

"Sure, she's kind. That's what she get's paid for."

"It's more than that," Tony said. "I think she genuinely cares for me."

Stane smiled sardonically.

"She cares so much she never noticed you were doing cocaine in your office."

"Fuck, Obie," Tony said incredulously. "How many times do we have to go through this? I never did drugs in my office!"

"Well, they found some cocaine stashed in your desk, Tony. How do you explain that?"

Tony shook his head. "I never brought any cocaine into my office." It just didn't sound like something he'd do. But then he'd done lots of things that didn't sound like him this past year.

"Fine," Obie said. "You didn't. Or maybe you just forgot about it. Who knows? Maybe somebody planted it there. My point is, she didn't have a clue of what was going on. Tony: if you're gonna put your future in a woman's hands, then find yourself one who -"

"That's enough," Tony said, a warning in the tone of his voice. "You can't blame her for any of this."

Obie stared at Tony with interest.

"You're defending her. My, my; you really _are_ serious. Oh, Tony," He sighed. "You're like a spoiled little kid who wants all the toys in the playroom -never mind that he doesn't know what to do with them." He lowered his voice, "This is the one relationship you haven't screwed up yet, Tony. Do you really wanna risk it?"

"I wouldn't screw up this time. Not with her."

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

"I just know."

"You just _know_ –just listen to yourself! You just_ know _–is that supposed to be reassuring? For crying out loud, Tony! You haven't learned anything, have you? You need a lesson in humility, that's what you need." He paused. "What does she say about this?"

"I haven't told her yet." Obadiah rolled his eyes. "Look," Tony said, "I don't know when I started feeling this way. But something happened in Venice. We stayed up late at night, just –you know, talking. I feel like I know her now."

"And that's supposed to mean something?"

"It means something to me," Tony retorted. "God, why can't you be more supportive? I've got this _feeling_ about Pepper; like she's got all the answers."

Obadiah sighed.

"Ah, Tony. You're nuts, that's what you are. Pepper's got enough on her plate right now; she's been taking care of your public messes for years -now you want her to deal with your private issues too?"

"I can change," Tony said. He hated how eager he sounded, as if his life really depended on Obadiah's approval. It was pathetic, but he couldn't help it. He needed Obadiah's support. "I _want_ to change."

"You want to change," Obie repeated, sarcasm dripping the words. "Didn't we have this conversation before? A year ago, to be more exact?"

Tony shook his head in disbelief. "You had to bring that up -"

Obadiah went on, ignoring the interruption.

"You said you wanted to make some changes in Stark Industries, remember? You said you wanted to take over some of _my_ administrative duties too." He paused, as if he expected some response from Tony. He got none. "Do you remember what I said back then, Tony? I said, 'show me you can do it.' And you did… for about a week. Then you started coming late for work, and then you started missing entire days -and that was only the beginning. Do you remember what happened next?"

Tony shook his head again but didn't say anything.

"You must remember how it all ended, at least," Obadiah said. "It ended with you in the Emergency Room, Tony; it ended with me and Pepper frantically working 24/7 to keep the press from finding out the great Tony Stark had overdosed in a dingy motel."

"I know I messed up -"

"You didn't just mess up, Tony. You almost fucking died!"

"And I want to make up for that," Tony said eagerly. "I know I can do it. With the right woman by my side, I -"

"Just listen to yourself! You sound like you expect Pepper to do the job for you! Face it, Tony; you're not up to the challenge. You can't deal with responsibility, that's all there is to it. You can't deal with real life. You're all right just as long as you stay holed up in a basement, playing with _toys_ -"

"Those _toys_ have made billions for the company."

"Yeah, well. It's been a long time since you came up with a new one."

Tony flinched. It hurt to hear those words out loud. It was the truth, too; he had hit rock bottom. But now he believed there was a way back...

"I need her," he said. "I... love her."

"_You_ love her." Obie snorted. "You don't know what love is, Tony. You fuck women and you call that love. Your father was just like you –and look how he ended up -"

Tony flushed. "You son of a bitch," he hissed. Fueled by the anger he'd been holding back, he took one step in Obadiah's direction, then another. He saw Obadiah straighten up, ready to take him on -

Then suddenly, and to Tony's utter surprise, Obie pulled him into a crushing hug.

"Ah, Tony, Tony," he said. "You're not gonna hit me, are you? I'm your friend, for God's sake! What the hell's wrong with you? I've been racking my brains, trying to understand -" He pulled back. "You know why I get so pissed off at you, don't you?" He paused but didn't give him tie to respond. "I depend on you, that's why! We all do; you're the soul of Stark Industries! But now you're squandering your life -it breaks my heart!"

Tony didn't know what to say. Obie's bursts of affection had that effect on him. He was better at handling Stane's anger .

Obadiah held Tony at arms' length.

"Tell me this: Do you _really_ love her?"

"I think so," Tony said. "I do," he said quickly, adding some conviction to the words.

Obadiah studied him for a moment, as if gauging his sincerity.

"Ok, then. I _believe_ you -"

"It doesn't look like you do," Tony mumbled.

"Well, I do, Tony. Here's what we're gonna do." He put his arm around the younger man's shoulders. "We're not gonna tell Pepper anything yet. She's not in a good place right now, what with the boyfriend and everything. It wouldn't be fair on her, would it?" He paused until he got a reluctant nod from Tony. "Meanwhile, you're gonna finish your treatment; you're gonna follow the doctors' advice -"

"I _am_ following their advice -" Tony cut in.

"You're gonna show me you're serious about this, all right? You stay clean for the next three months, and I'll personally talk to Pepper –put a word in for you, so to speak. You need to put your act together, Tony. I mean, she's not the kind of girl who's gonna be happy as the boss' mistress; you gotta take this relationship to a different level. Deal?"

Tony paused. 'Different level' was something he hadn't contemplated. He hadn't really put a lot of thought into this. But Obie's hand was right on his face, so the least he could do was shake it.

"Deal," he said.

* * *

TBC


	5. Afghanistan 2008

A long way back home

Part 5

* * *

Afghanistan 2008

Tony Stark was shivering. It was always cold in the cave, but today was laundry day, and he'd washed most of his clothes. Now he stood half-naked, shifting his weight from one foot, waiting for the guards to bring something dry to wear.

Yinsen, on the other hand, was sitting on the edge of his bed, calm and seemingly impervious to the cold.

"They'll be here soon, Stark," he said kindly. He'd often warned Tony against displaying impatience; he'd explained that guards would always take long to bring them clothes, (or food, or medical supplies, or whatever), because making them wait was a way of establishing their authority –the only way, now that Yinsen and Tony were 'privileged' prisoners not to be subjected to random abuse or torture.

Tony had tried to follow Yinsen's advice in this as in everything else -he knew his very life depended on it - but sitting still was something he'd never be able to do. It demanded something he didn't have: inner peace.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a burlap bag was tossed into the cave. The bag opened on impact, clothes bursting out of it.

Yinsen finally sprang into action. "They say we have to hurry," he said, even though Tony didn't need the translation anymore. He knew they didn't have long to pick the clothes they'd be wearing for the next couple of weeks. They needed to be quick and accurate; otherwise, they might end up with clothes that were too small. Tony tossed a dress shirt aside, sure that it would fit Yinsen; he knew Yinsen would do the same for him.

All too soon the guards barked at them again, and Tony complied, putting the rest of the clothes back in the bag and out of the cave. The door was shut soon after.

Tony turned his attention to the meager pile of clothes. He picked a sweatshirt and carefully turned it inside out. Suddenly, a cockroach darted from a sleeve; it fell on the floor and made a quick dash to a corner, but Tony was faster. He smashed it with a naked foot, and then impassively finished inspecting the sweatshirt.

Yinsen had been watching all along.

"That was quick, Stark," he said. "I'm impressed."

"I had a good teacher," Tony said modestly. He put on the sweatshirt and a flannel shirt, and then sat on the edge of the bed to put on some much-mended socks. It was only when he reached for his boots that he faltered for the first time. Those were Army boots, and the fact that they might have belonged to a soldier he knew still bothered him. He thought of the soldiers he'd watched die, especially the lady soldier, the one with the lovely bone structure. He never learned her name, but hers was one of the faces he saw in his dreams.

That these boots might have belonged to her –or to Jimmy or Pratt, who'd died while trying to protect him- was more than he could take, and he'd flat out refused to wear them when they were first brought to him. This had cost him a couple of days in a solitary cell. He'd emerged from it hungry and suffering from a cold, but still refusing to cave in.

It was Yinsen who finally convinced him to take the boots.

"You must choose your battles, Stark," he'd said. "But first, you have got to survive."

"And then?" Tony said bitterly.

"Then, we'll see," Yinsen had said cryptically.

_'I'm surviving,' _Tony thought, finally putting on the boots. They were a couple of sizes too big, so he padded them with pieces of burlap for added protection and bulk. He worked steadily, and as he did, he was struck by a sudden realization: His hands weren't shaking. He frowned; putting on these boots used to be the hardest thing to do; it was the closest he'd come to breaking down in this cave.

But his hands didn't shake anymore, and with this realization came another:

_He was getting used to this life._

It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind. He did _not_ want to get used to this place, or to the fact that he was wearing a dead soldier's boots. He did _not_ want to give up. Yet there was a part of him that felt safe here; safe from booze and drugs and every other temptation that had wrecked his life in the past. Come to think of it, this cave was like a detox clinic in some ways, except that no clinic in the world would force their patients to wash only once every ten days, or punish their transgressions with torture and death.

Yinsen, who was still looking at the dead cockroach, spoke again, putting an end to Tony's thoughts.

"I'm still impressed, Stark. I thought living in these conditions would crush your spirit."

"These?" Tony asked, glancing around the cave. "These are ok. You should have seen the places I ended up in, back when I was doing drugs."

Yinsen considered this.

"You don't give yourself enough credit. I've seen strong men crumble after being in this cave a few days."

"You haven't crumbled."

"I was _born_ in a place like this," Yinsen replied. "You weren't." He paused for a moment. "Maybe you have a strong spirit."

Tony smirked. "I don't think so."

Yinsen eyed him with curiosity.

"For an arrogant man, you can be surprisingly self-deprecating sometimes."

"Yeah, well. It's hard to be arrogant when you have to beg for a piece of soap," Tony said ironically. "But I'd crumble without these," he said, meaning his trousers –one of the few pieces of clothing he managed to keep. "British tweeds; guaranteed to last a lifetime.

….

They spent the evening playing Backgammon. Tony found himself winning. Apparently, Lady Luck hadn't completely abandoned him.

They usually played in companionable silence, but Tony made an exception that day.

"Do you have a family?" He didn't really want to know; he wasn't the kind to pry into other people's lives. But Yinsen had tried to be nice to him earlier that day, and he felt bound to reciprocate.

"Yes," Yinsen said. "And I'll see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?"

"Nah," Tony said.

"No," Yinsen said as if he'd suspected as much. "Then you're a man who has everything; and nothing."

_Ouch._

Tony only smiled. It was his turn to brew tea that day, and he focused on this, deftly lifting the sock they used as a tea bag and letting it drain on the side. Tea leaves were a precious commodity, and he acted accordingly.

When he finally got to sip the tea, he savored it gratefully.

He noticed Yinsen watching him.

Tony smiled. "I used to despise tea-drinkers," he admitted. "Now it's the only fix I got."

Yinsen didn't immediately reply.

"You ask for pot in your sleep," he said eventually, almost apologetically.

Tony paused.

"Do I?

"Not as often as you used to," Yinsen said, "But yes, you do, sometimes."

Tony carefully put his cup down.

"So, what do I say," he asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"I don't quite understand the phrases" Yinsen said with a frown. "Mostly, you call out for pot and then you say you are sorry."

"That sounds about right," Tony said ruefully. He noticed Yinsen looking questioningly at him. "I'm not asking for marihuana, Yinsen," he said. "I'm probably asking for Potts, my assistant."

"Potts? Is that his name?"

"_Her_ name," Tony said. He did not want to talk about her. He did not –Oh, who was he kidding? He did want to talk about Pepper. But he also felt protective of her. "She's been with me a few years now," he said simply.

Yinsen nodded slowly.

"I see." He said cryptically. He was looking at Tony, studying him.

"Have you ever loved, Stark?"

"Nah."

Yinsen smiled a little. He obviously didn't believe that.

"So, you don't care for anyone. Is there someone who cares for you?"

Tony hesitated. "Pepper, I guess."

_"Pepper?" _

"My assistant. Her name's Virginia," Tony explained. "But we call her Pepper."

"_Pepper Potts_?" Yinsen repeated in disbelief.

"She likes that name better," Tony said, fondly. "And it suits her, somehow."

"It all makes sense now," Yinsen said, in sudden recognition. "You were not asking for drugs -"

"-or seasonings," Tony said wryly.

"- you were asking for a _friend_," he finished.

Tony nodded. "I'm so used to her taking care of me, I must have been calling out to her to fix this."

Yinsen nodded thoughtfully.

"Tell me about her," he said. And he poured some more tea, which was the right thing to do. Comforted by the warm liquid, Tony found himself talking about Pepper.

"She's… Good," he said slowly. "A good woman; the kind you want to do something heroic for," he added, almost to himself. "You know; so you can deserve her."

Yinsen shook his head.

"A good woman won't expect you to do anything heroic, Stark. On the contrary, she'll be angry if you put yourself in danger."

Tony chuckled. Yeah, that sounded like Pepper.

"Did you ever do something heroic for her, Stark?"

"Nah. I didn't." Tony stared ahead for a moment. "But I tried, in a way."

"Tell me."

"It's a long story."

"Time is the only thing that is plentiful in here."

Tony hesitated. "I'm not used to talk about her," he said.

Yinsen nodded quietly, wisely refraining from making any questions. Questions would have only put Tony on his guard. With his silence, he was giving the younger man a chance to talk, but only if he wished to. Inevitably, Tony felt the need to say something.

"Sometimes it feels like I dreamed the whole thing," he said after a moment. "I may have; I had a serious drug problem back then."

And that was the best way to start the story of his lost year, 2004.

He told Yinsen how his recreational use of cocaine escalated to a point where even Stark Industries lawyers couldn't keep it from hitting the news. He told him how Obadiah Stane had intervened by sending him to a private clinic, where he completed treatment under the close watch of a team of specialists.

Tony didn't try to downplay his own guilt, or to justify it.

"What triggered this behavior?" Yinsen asked. "It seems sudden."

"I couldn't handle the pressure, I guess," he said. He explained that he'd tried to take over some of Obie's duties. "I thought I should be taking an interest in the administrative process too," he explained, "I just didn't know what it entailed," he added ruefully. "Coke helped ease the pressure, at first. Then I started missing meetings, and, well…" he sighed. "It was a disaster."

"It seems to me you had the wrong kind of friends," Yinsen said, voice heavy with disapproval.

"Yeah," Tony said sheepishly. "I did."

"What did Pepper say?"

"She tried to help. Mostly, she covered for me –which was the wrong thing to do. But she trusted me. She believed me when I said I could handle it. But I couldn't. That was the worst part: having to admit to her that I couldn't handle it."

"But you can handle it now."

"Yeah, I learned. Finally," he added ruefully. "But it took me a while."

So far he had barely mentioned Pepper, even though she was the reason for this story. Reluctantly, he told Yinsen about the trip to Venice and the ensuing conversation with Obadiah.

"Obie said I had to finish my treatment and show that I wanted to get better. I promised I would. We went to the charity ball, and then -" he let the word trail off.

"What happened?"

Tony looked up.

"I got drunk that night."

Yinsen didn't look surprised.

"I exchanged one addiction for another," Tony said ruefully. "It took me another couple of months to get back on track."

"And you never spoke to her?"

"Nah."

"You could have. From what you've told me, she would have understood."

"She would have felt _sorry_ for me," Tony said. "Nah, it's better this way. The truth is, I was relieved that I never told her. Obie was right; I would have screwed up things with her."

"How do you know that? You never even tried."

"Trust me; I know. I wasn't looking for a relationship –I can see that now. It was like Obie said: I wanted her to do the job for me. That's not the way it works; if I wanted to get well, I had to do it on my own."

"And you got well."

"Eventually."

Yinsen was silent for a moment.

"This man… Obadiah Stane, how long have you known him?"

"For as long as I can remember. I used to think of him as an evil uncle, lurking in the background," he said with humor. "But he turned out to be useful; after my father died he took over the company, so -" he shrugged.

"But he's not a very good friend," Yinsen said. "A good friend would have been more supportive. You were recovering from an addiction, after all."

"It's my fault," Tony said ruefully. "I always gave him a hard time. He's bald, so when I was a kid I'd call him Daddy Warbucks and Mr. Micawber behind his back. I guess he found out; I got the feeling he hate my guts back then. Then my parents died and he had to oversee my education; and then we had to work together. We get along fine now."

"What he said about your father's death… 'Look how he ended up.' It made you angry. Why?"

"Yeah," Tony said, uncomfortably. "It's kind of a touchy subject. The official story's that my parents died together in a car accident. They did, but they were in separate cars. My mom was racing down the highway with my father in pursuit. She lost control of her car and so did he."

"I'm sorry," Yinsen said sincerely. "It must have been devastating for you."

"It sucked," Tony said cryptically. He'd always suspected his mother was drunk that day. Not that it mattered now.

"I'm sorry, Stark."

Tony didn't know what exactly it was that Yinsen was sorry for but didn't ask.

"Hey, I survived." he said. He drank the last of the tea and put the cup down. "It's your kids I feel sorry for right now."

Yinsen was surprised at that.

"You've got kids, right?" Tony said.

"Five," Yinsen said.

"Shit," Tony said, stricken. "It must be hard for you."

"It is."

"Wanna tell me about them?"

Yinsen considered this, then nodded.

"Yes."

…..

Later that night, Tony lay in bed, wrapped in a musty blanket that didn't quite cover his feet (and that's why Yinsen had insisted he take the boots. He would have never survived the cold without them). He stared at the ceiling, thinking of the things they'd talked about earlier that day. He didn't dwell on the life he'd lost, or the people he might not see ever again. Instead, he thought of Yinsen's children, as Yinsen saw them last: the loving daughters, teary-eyed with worry; the mischievous younger son, trying hard not to break down as the Ten Rings took his father away… And Yinsen's wife, openly crying and begging for his life.

"You're gonna see them again, Yinsen," Tony said in the dark. "I promise."

* * *

The End

Notes:

1. Iron Man's production Designer, J. Michael Riva says he sought RDJ's advice about makeshift objects in prison, such as a sock being used to make tea. This tea-bag sock can be seen briefly in the movie, when Tony and Yinsen are playing Backgammon, (another of RDJ's suggestions).

2. RDJ once said that his prison cell made him feel safe; that it was a 'place to retreat to'.


	6. Malibu 2008

A long way back home

Part 5

Malibu 2004

* * *

"When I ordered the hit on you..."

Tony's eyes opened wide in disbelief.

That Obie would use the nerve-paralyzer on him -he should have seen that coming; the paralyzer was Stane's pet project, and as he was fond of saying, 'Desperate times call for desperate measures', and it was obvius that Stane was going to use any means to keep him out of the company –legal or otherwise.

But that Obie would resort to cold-blooded murder…

_No way._ Not the guy who'd stood by him through so much shit over the years. Not the one who'd comforted him when his parents died and cheered him on when he got his degree –

But as Obadiah himself had said to him, not long ago, _'You can't afford to be this naïve.' _

Only now did Tony realize how naïve he'd really been.

_Son of a bitch._ The full implication of Obadiah's actions hit him, all of a sudden; the dead soldiers, the dead people of Gulmira and countless other villages. _You got hundreds killed! _Tony wanted to punch Stane, obliterate that smug smile off his face, but he couldn't move. He could hardly breathe; he'd recalled only belatedly that you were supposed to take deep breaths immediately after getting hit with the nerve-paralyzer; otherwise, your lungs slowly lost their ability to expand.

Oblivious to Tony's struggle, Stane kept chatting and smiling, looking every inch the 'gentle giant' the press was so fond of. He kept smiling even as he took a retrieving device from a case and held it in front of Tony's eyes.

Tony's panic mounted.

_He's gonna steal the reactor._ Of course, he was. _'Desperate times, Tony...' _

Tony didn't see it happen, but he knew what was happening, by the smell of burnt fabric and the ominous sounds, and the searing pain in his chest.

Tony watched impotently as Obadiah delicately held the reactor in his hand.

"Look at it," Stane said reverently. "Ah, Tony; this is your Ninth Symphony."

_He's crazy. How couldn't I see it? How couldn't any of us see it? _

"A new generation of weapons," Obadiah said then. "With this at its core."

Tony looked away. He sought refuge in other voices and other images, but the ones that came to mind were hardly comforting; soldiers' faces and voices -_'You intimidate them'…'Can I take a picture with you?'…_A reporter's voice, dripping sarcasm_ '…and what about your other nickname: Merchant of Death?'… _Yinsen, urging him not to waste his life. Pepper, looking sweet and vulnerable as she leant closer for a kiss that never came –_Why? Why couldn't she kiss me? _

_Pepper!_ Tony started. Pepper was going to be there any minute –should have been there a while ago, actually _–Don't let her come…Not while he's here -_

Suddenly, Stane's face loomed before his eyes. The older man was looking intently at him.

"All the fight's gone, I see;" he said critically. "Now, that's disappointing. Honestly, I thought you'd show more of a backbone, Tony. You certainly showed plenty, all these years. Not that it did you any good," he added as an afterthought.

"Ah, Tony," he said, and he leant closer, just like he did whenever he was about to have a heart-to-heart talk with the younger man. "I want you to know this is all your fault. If you had stayed in the background like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened. We had a deal, you and me: you built weapons while I took care of the rest. Now that was a great deal, but it wasn't enough for you. You wanted to get your hands on my side of the business too, and, well, I couldn't let that happen, could I? Not while I had all those little side deals to take care of."

He stared at Tony for a moment.

"No, I agree," he said, even though Tony hadn't said a word. "That doesn't sound like enough of a reason to order you killed. Well, I could bring up all the little reasons that led me to that big decision,but we don't have much time, do we? The thing is, you're a Stark, Tony. And very much like your father too; little runts who kept getting ahead through no effort of their own, while the rest of us had to struggle..." He stopped abruptly as if he'd said too much. "Did you know Howard wanted to shut down the weapons division too? Just before he died he started saying how sick he was of death. Sick of death," he repeated with a sneer. "He'd been profiting from death all those years and all of a sudden he wanted me to believe he'd grown a conscience -"

_You killed him. Did you kill him? Say it, did you kill him? Son of a bitch -_

"As for _dear_ Maria Stark," Stane said. "She was a different story." He smiled when he saw Tony's eyes widen. "Yes, Tony. Me and your mother. Surprised? Ah, Tony; there's so much you don't know. Did you know there was a time -a very brief time- when I actually thought you were _my_ kid? I couldn't be sure and neither could your dear mom. Shocking, isn't it?" He shook his head in disapproval. "I'm sorry to say this, Tony, but your mom was a bit of a slut; she couldn't make up her mind about me even after she married your father. When she got pregnant we wondered, you know, _what if_? But one look at you and, well, it was like looking at your father's baby pictures. You were a Stark, all right.

"Once again, Howard Stark had bested me. Not that he knew how to make either of you happy," he added bitterly. "Howard liked possessions, but it was the acquiring he enjoyed the most. He had a wife and a son, but do you think he valued you above his art collection? He didn't. Not like I would have, anyway.

"Ah, well; I guess I shouldn't speak ill of the dead," he said casually. "Especially when he was kind enough to leave the company to me. Ah, Tony; that was a dream come true. It should have lasted longer than it did, but unfortunately, you decided you wanted to build weapons too; another little guy, taking over and pushing me aside -"

Obadiah glanced at Tony and did a double take.

"Aw, you're looking so sad now... Tell you what; I'm gonna tell you a secret; something that's gonna cheer you up. Remember four years ago, when you told me you loved Pepper and wanted to start a relationship with her? And I told you to wait till you put your act together? Well, I never told you this, but Pepper and I had a little talk earlier that day.

"She came to my office right after you landed; she was all teary-eyed and nervous, and wouldn't come to the point. Finally she started talking about feelings, and how she'd never felt like this before, and… Well, to be honest, I thought she was making a pass at me," he admitted sheepishly. "But as it turned out, it was you she was talking about, Tony. She said she'd never loved anybody else. She said she'd tried to get over you, and that's why she'd got involved with that Architect; the one that beat her up 'cause she wouldn't fuck him -of course, she wouldn't; not while her heart belonged to the great Tony Stark."

_No way. She never said anything. She never -_

And now Tony looked back in time, frantically looking for signs that he might have missed. He couldn't think of any. Pepper had never looked at him any differently -except in Venice. He wasn't wrong, then. She did love him, back then. And for a brief time he'd loved her, too.

_I should have talked to her –I should have told her -_

Obadiah got into his line of vision again.

"Do you know what she said to me, Tony? She said she was determined to talk to you, but first she needed my blessing. _My _blessing." He chuckled, relishing the irony. "Oh, Tony, I wish you had seen me; I was masterful. I told her that Tony Stark wasn't the kind of guy who'd appreciate having a female spring her feelings on him; that you needed to put your life together before you could even consider being in a relationship. I begged her not to act impulsively; to please –please- put you first. And guess what? She fell for it!

"Smart people are kind of dumb when it comes to feelings, Tony;" he said matter-of-factly; "They're so easy to manipulate. First it was her, then it was you. It was like watching a fucking soap opera!

"Anyway, I told Pepper I'd broach the subject to you once you got your life back on track. And what did you do that night? You got drunk, Tony; the very same day you'd promised to complete your treatment: Yet another example of your inability to deal with pressure and responsibility -at least, that's how I put it to Pepper the next day. Oh, you should have seen her; she was so sad –so resigned to the fact that you'd never grow up. I felt _so_ sorry for her. Not sorry enough to admit that I was the one who got you drunk in the first place, but still…"

Tony's eyes widened.

"Oops," Obadiah said, pretending surprise at his own revelation. "Cat's out of the bag! Oh, well, I might as well tell you everything. Sure, I planned everything from the start," he said with a shrug. "You should know by now I don't leave anything to fate, Tony. I was your 'friends'' best friend, and your supplier's supplier. Not that I deserve all the credit, mind you; you were surprisingly cooperative.

He shook his head, "Ah, Tony. Deep down, you're still the poor little rich boy who never got enough affection from his parents. You were so happy, lapping up your friends' attention... You never realized they were only playing you."

_But I did_, Tony thought. _I knew they were only using me. I didn't mind. I was having a good time. And I needed the drugs and the booze. _Anything that might dull his senses.

Idly, he thought of those friends of his, and how he never saw them again. They called right after he got out of rehab (the second time), but by then Tony had decided that being lonely wasn't that bad. He severed all ties.

He looked at Obadiah. _You must have paid a bundle to keep them quiet. Or did you get them killed? _

Obadiah met his gaze.

"You should have died from that overdose, Tony; there were enough drugs inside you to do the trick. I was surprised that you'd want to live after all the shit you'd been through. Hell, you even _looked_ like shit. But you still had a little fight in you and I knew -I just knew- it wouldn't be long before you'd start nosing into my side of the business again."

_But then I started drinking, _Tony thought. And by the time he finally got out of rehab, he was convinced he couldn't handle the pressure, and so he left Obadiah alone.

He couldn't help to admire Stane's deviousness.

_Bravo, Obie. _

"You were right about Pepper, by the way: she was the kind of woman you really needed. But I couldn't let you have her. Not Pepper." He looked away. "It's funny how history tends to repeat itself, doesn't it? First Howard took Maria away from me, then you took Pepper away." He glanced back at Tony. "You probably don't remember this, but she was next in line to be one of my secretaries -a mousy little girl in a school teacher's dress… Hard to believe she would turn into such a beautiful woman. Yet you knew; somehow, you knew and you took her away.

_You're crazy. Crazy motherfucker. That mousy little girl had dreams and the brains to realize them. You didn't understand but I did_

Obadiah looked at his watch.

"Ten minutes! Well, well. I better get going. I've got a new suit to try on, after all." He rose from his seat. "You'll be regaining some mobility soon but there's not much you can do without this," and he raised the

small case he'd put the reactor in. "I give you five minutes; ten, if you lie down quietly. But you're not gonna do that, are you? You're probably gonna trash around, trying to get help. I wouldn't do that if I were you, Tony," he said patiently. "I disabled JARVIS and I'm taking the phone with me. And, let's face it; even you couldn't build another one of these in minutes.

_I don't need to build one. There's one on my desk -a gift from Pepper –_ _Proof that I have a heart_.

He averted his eyes, afraid that Obadiah might see something in them. A glimmer of hope –

As if on cue, Obadiah looked at him again.

"Maybe I should stay," he said thoughtfully. "Make sure everything goes according to plan…" He considered the matter for a moment, then, "No. No, I don't actually _need_ to see it happen." He sighed. "Deep down, I dislike violence, Tony. It's something I'll have to get used to, I suppose…"

He started walking away.

"As for Pepper," he said. "I really wish you hadn't involved her."

Tony stared at Obadiah's retreating figure.

_I'm not gonna die. Can't die now. Pepper needs me. _

Suddenly, his thumb twitched.

* * *

TBC


	7. Stark Industries 2008

A long way back home

Part 7

Stark Industries Building, 2008

This takes place right after the conference at the end of Iron Man.

* * *

Once the conference was over, Col. Rhodes ushered Tony through a lateral door, only to find that some reporters had guessed what their escape route was going to be. They immediately started taking pictures again.

"The conference is over, folks," Rhodes said pointedly, but the reporters ignored him; they still had questions about the Iron Man suit, they said, but they were the same questions -questions Tony had already answered in a dozen different ways.

Still, Tony smiled; he kept smiling as they made their way to the elevators, and he smiled and waved till the doors closed.

Once he and Rhodes were alone, the smile turned cynical.

"I can see the headlines already: 'Billionaire smiles as his empire collapses around him.' Or: 'Tony Stark, Tin Man in an Iron Suit.'" He shook his head. "Ah, well. This'll get me back into People's 25 Most Intriguing list at the very least. Who knows," he added as he looked into the mirrored door of the elevator. "Maybe I'll be Sexiest Man alive again."

Suddenly, his view was blocked by Col. Rhodes.

"What the fuck did you just do?"

"Not now, Rhodey."

"All you had to do was read the cards! Was that too difficult?"

"Hey, you've got any aspirin? My meds wore off a while ago." He stared hopefully at his friend. "No? Nothing? Look in your pockets, will ya?"

Rhodes stared at him in disbelief for a couple of seconds, then shook his head in resignation.

"No, Tony; I don't have aspirin with me. I'm not your nurse, I'm not your nanny, and right now I don't even wanna be your friend." He took a deep breath. "I can't believe you did this. After all the work me and Coulson did for you. And Pepper. Jesus, what are you gonna tell Pepper?"

Tony started loosening his tie.

"She'll understand."

"You wanna bet?" Rhodes smiled in relish. "I think you're in deep shit this time, pal."

"Thank you, Colonel. I appreciate the support."

"Any time, Mr. Stark."

Tony rubbed his neck. He needed an aspirin, and he needed it now.

Rhodey was eyeing him attentively.

"So, The Iron Man's not so tough, after all." He shook his head. "Do you know what you got yourself into?"

"No," Tony said honestly. "But that's what makes it exciting. And please, don't call me 'The' Iron Man, will ya?"

"What do you want me to call you, then? Neck-brace Man?"

The doors opened and Tony stepped out. Glancing around, he realized Rhodey hadn't moved.

"You coming?"

"No, I'm not," Rhodes said. "Pepper's gonna hold back if I'm there, and I don't want her to hold back; I want her to take a full swing at you."

"She'll understand," Tony said again.

"You keep sayin' that. What's for her to understand, anyway? That you're an egomaniac son of a bitch?"

The doors closed before Tony replied.

"That I did it for her," he said quietly.

* * *

Tony paused for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath and went into his office.

"Now, don't be mad," he started, then did a double take. Pepper wasn't there.

Happy was, though. And he looked pissed.

"She's not here."

"Yeah, I can see that," Tony glared.

"She emptied her desk," Happy said, glaring back. "And it's -" _And it's your fault. _He didn't have to say it; the look on his face was eloquent enough -at least to Tony, who knew very well whose fault it was.

"It'll be all right," Tony said. "I'll talk to her."

Happy looked worried now. "I don't think she'll listen, boss."

"Leave that to me," Tony replied testily. Why didn't his friends have a little more faith in him for a change? More calmly, he said, "There are reporters waiting outside; take the limo –make sure they see you. I'll take another car."

"Where do you want me to go?"

"Wherever you want to. Go to Vegas."

He didn't wait for a reply. He turned and left the office.

* * *

tbc


End file.
